Ballistic Kiss (Sandman Slim 11)

Maybe I should polish my boots? Will people even look at my feet?

Holy shit. How do people even have parties?

I wander around for a few minutes, picking up books and clothes. Toss them all in the bedroom. With the door closed, the place doesn’t look half-bad. But I’m still skittish after being run out of the grocery. It’s humiliating. I mean, I’ve killed every kind of hellbeast imaginable. I’m related to Wild Bill Hickok. Yet, all I could think of to do for revenge at the store was steal a shopping cart. I’m keeping it too. That will teach them not to screw with a natural born killer.

God, I’m pathetic.

I need some food and some coffee. I stare at what’s on the counter, but none of it looks worth a damn. And the coffeemaker turned itself off, so the sludge at the bottom of the pot is cold. I’m as twitchy as a chicken on a hot plate. I need to get out of here and someplace safe for a while. But I’m not ready for really heavy drinking yet. That leaves one choice.

I step through a shadow and come out in the parking lot by Donut Universe.

I spot Janet through the window. She’s in the last booth along the front of the place, drinking coffee and reading a magazine. I go over and rap on the window with a knuckle; she looks up and smiles when she sees me. Uses the magazine to wave me in. I go inside and straight back to her booth.

It’s after lunch, so the place isn’t crowded. A business type in a suit, tie loose, yammering into his phone. A table of teenyboppers cutting school to load up on sugar. An old guy nodding off in a sunny booth near the back, his coffee and donut untouched.

Janet slides out of the booth when I get there and pecks me on the cheek before pulling me into the booth so I’m sitting across from her. Pecking me on the cheek is a regular thing now. We’ve had coffee a few times and dinner at a sushi place nearby. After dinner, she kissed me hard in the parking lot and I let her. I still feel guilty about it and haven’t mentioned it to Candy. And I feel bad about Janet too. So far, I’ve been able to make excuses not to go back to her place or let her come to mine. How much longer can I do that without feeling like a heel? I already feel like an idiot.

“This is a nice surprise,” she says. “You want some coffee or a fritter?”

I hold up a hand. “Nothing, thanks. I’ve had it with food for the moment.”

She furrows her brow.

“You okay?”

The teenyboppers laugh and I glance over at them. All they need for a party is each other and some shoplifted beer. It must be nice.

I say, “I agreed to something stupid.”

“What?”

“It looks like I’m finally having that movie night at my place tomorrow. Unless I burn it down to get out of it.”

She perks up at that.

“Great. What time should I get there?”

It didn’t really occur to me that I’d stopped by to invite her until I sat down. Sometimes my brain plays tricks on me like that. One half gets ahead of the other and suddenly I’m in a donut place asking a pretty girl to a party I wasn’t sure I wanted to have a minute ago.

“I was thinking around eight.”

She gives me a lopsided grin. “Eight is perfect. Should I show up naked or will there be other people?”

It takes me a second to make sure I heard that right.

“There will be other people.”

She sighs.

“Oh well. Clothes it is then. Do you need any donuts? Because I can bring about a million.”

I shake my head, feeling things getting complicated and wondering if I should burn the house tonight or tomorrow.

“I’m fine on food. In fact, I just picked up some snacks.”

“Really? What?”

“You know. An assortment.”